Rules Two and Three
by The Eclectic Bookworm
Summary: Clara abruptly realized that she had never seen the Doctor with that light in his eyes. Sometimes she'd catch a sort of softness when he looked at her, a fondness, maybe even love, but nothing like the way he looked at River—as if the space-haired archaeologist was the center of his universe.


**Felt like writing Twelve/River with a teensy bit of Ponds, simply because I'm missing the Ponds a lot lately. Clara's lovely, but Amy and Rory are my absolute favorite companions.**

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><p>Clara Oswald was woken from her sleep by the sound of the TARDIS landing. At first she thought that she was still dreaming, and shifted in her bed with a yawn, staring with bleary eyes at her bedroom ceiling. But then she noticed that the light in the corridor was on.<p>

"Doctor?" she called uncertainly, reluctantly extricating herself from her cocoon of cozy blankets. "Doctor, what are you doing? Is that you? Are—are you going somewhere?" She donned a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers and her softest dressing gown as she left her room and walked down the corridor to the console room.

The TARDIS door, the one that led outside, was wide open. Clara tiptoed around the console and peered through the doorway.

It was a party, a ball, she was certain of it. The Doctor had tactfully parked in a deserted hallway, but she could hear strains of music and the sound of laughter wafting from an archway directly to her left.

She looked down at her dressing gown with distaste and sighed. She hated it when the Doctor took her to midnight parties. She always felt ridiculous—although that had been her clever boy, not the man that she wasn't quite sure she knew. Hesitantly, she stepped out of the TARDIS before walking into the ornate ballroom.

It was most likely the late sixteenth century, with lots of big skirts and fancy wigs, but that wasn't what caught Clara's attention. In the center of the room, a couple waltzed; _Clara's _Doctor, wearing a bow tie and a fez and looking extremely proud of himself, and a woman with bright red hair whose face Clara couldn't quite see. She had to resist the urge to run up to the former; this was quite obviously before they'd met.

"All right, Centurion, I'm giving you your wife back!" the Doctor yelled happily, ignoring the startled stares from some of the other dancers. "Swap you—a wife for a wife?"

"Ugh, you're disgusting," laughed the woman who was dancing with him. "That's my _daughter _you're talking about."

The couple next to the Doctor and his partner broke apart, and Clara gasped loudly. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, but that was—that was even less possible than seeing her Doctor again. River Song, wearing a light blue dress that greatly accented her decolletage, stepped away from a man Clara didn't know (no, wait, she'd seen him before, somewhere, she'd called him Nina, once, or had she?) and gave the Doctor a light kiss on the cheek. "My father's a _much _better dancer than you, sweetie," she giggled. "Can we stay with our new partners?"

Clara abruptly realized that she had never seen the Doctor with that light in his eyes. Sometimes she'd catch a sort of _softness _when he looked at her, a fondness, maybe even love, but nothing like the way he looked at River—as if the space-haired archaeologist was the center of his universe. He took her hand. "Oi! I resent that! I might just drop you off back at Stormcage if you don't respect your elders!"

"Elders?" teased River, and Clara noticed that she looked much happier as well. "What elders? All _I _see is my mum, my dad, and a little boy in a fez."

"Oh, so you want a new dance partner?" the Doctor huffed. "I'm not going to dance with you if you keep on talking like that!"

River snorted. "All I have to do is snog you, sweetie. Well, that isn't the _only _option, I could give you a—"

"_Parents!_" hissed the Doctor, and Clara had to laugh softly at his ferocious blush.

The woman winced. "Don't give me that mental image. Honestly. Really don't need that."

The Doctor smirked swiftly, as if something had occurred to him, and then he grinned broadly. "Watch this," he said smugly. "If you two don't want to dance with me, then I'll just have to dance with Rory."

"_What?"_ said both women. Clara couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Can't you dance with River instead?" Rory asked apprehensively.

"River won't want to dance with a little boy in a fez," said the Doctor huffily. "Plus, you're _way _more attractive than her." There was a dead silence in the entire ballroom as the people standing by the Doctor edged casually away. He rolled his eyes. "You humans need to be more open-minded," he chided the man—Rory—as if it were _his _fault that the general majority of sixteenth-century nobility was against same-sex relationships. "Honestly."

"_Fine,_" Rory muttered, "but who are Amy and River going to dance with?"

"I'm a bit tired, actually," Amy replied. "I'm gonna go back to the TARDIS, if you don't mind."

"No, no problem!" said the Doctor jovially. "We've just spent nearly two hours dancing, no problem at—"

"May I have this dance?"

Clara choked on air.

The question had not been asked to Clara, but to River, and the asker of the question was Clara's present Doctor. He was smiling, as if he already knew what River's answer would be. But then, Clara supposed, he already _did._

River looked at Clara's present Doctor, looked at her fez-wearing Doctor, and laughed softly. Clara suddenly realized that River had looked at both of the Doctors in exactly the same way. "Of course, sweetie," she replied, and Clara saw the present Doctor's smug expression as River took his arm and led him away from the past Doctor (who was sputtering indignantly and mumbling things like "_I'm_ her sweetie, not some sixteenth-century crackpot!" to a worried-looking Rory.)

She smiled slightly and went back to bed. This wasn't her story anymore.

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><p>"You haven't seen me in a while, I gather," said River gently, her hand tracing his cheek. "You look absolutely astonished that I know you."<p>

"You've seen this face before, then?" the Doctor asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "I know you," she said. "Whatever face you have, I know you—it's one of the perks of being a telepathic Time Lady. I recognize your mind, idiot. But keep in mind that, according to the Doctor I just left, I'm quite early in my timeline, which means that it's very likely that we'll meet again."

"You know me?"

"You've got this look in your eyes. I can tell."

He smiled softly. "I had forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"How perceptive you are, even so young."

River smiled uncertainly. "Not that young at all, you know."

"To me," said the Doctor, "you're very young."

"And you came here to see me?"

He shook his head. "I came here because in about two hours, after my past self has extricated himself from the buffet table he's going to crash into and cleaned it all up, he's going to find you flushed and disheveled in the hallway with a silly little smile on your face."

"Interacting with your own past—that's dangerous."

"You're utterly worth it."

"I wish that your past self would say things like that," River confessed softly.

"If it helps," said the Doctor, "he's always thinking things like that, even when he pushes you away."

"Really?" said River, her eyes full of a joyous adoration at her lover's admission.

"Trust me. I'm the Doctor."

River kissed him, and his universe seemed to slide into focus again (now he realized that something had always been a little bit off-kilter without her), fireworks exploding under his eyelids. He pulled her close, desperately, because now he wasn't going to waste a single second. This was the first meeting for both of them, and he was going to make sure that it wasn't the last.

Then her arms wrapped around his waist—

The Doctor pulled away almost instantaneously. "No," he said, ignoring River's slightly hurt expression. "Yes to snogs, no to hugs."

His wife's hurt expression dissolved and she rolled her eyes, muttering "Idiot" tenderly before kissing him again, her arms snaking resolutely around his waist as her way of saying _I'm the boss here. _

Then they heard footsteps, both of them freezing in the middle of the deserted corridor. River tried to pull away, but the Doctor, who had spent _much _too long away from his wife, knew that it wasn't his past self, Amy, or Rory; Rory was still dancing with his past self and Amy had gone back…

…to the TARDIS.

Which was parked right behind them.

The Doctor let River pull away and stared at Amy, who was staring at River with a horrified expression. He'd forgotten how red her hair was.

"Amelia Pond," he said wonderingly. "The Girl Who Waited."

"Melody," said Amy softly, sounding utterly disappointed.

"Mum, please let me explain," said River calmly.

"Is there anything _to _explain?" said Amy, her voice shaking slightly. "You're cheating on my best friend."

"Actually, she's not," said the Doctor.

"Oh?" said Amy coldly, turning on him with fury in her eyes. "Then who are you?"

"You know how I regenerated, Mum?" said River, reaching out and gripping the Doctor's hands tightly, as if to both provide and request support. He squeezed her hands back. "The Doctor does too, in the future. And…and this is him."

"Right," said Amy. "Right. So I'm supposed to just believe that this man who I've never met is the Doctor? All right, then, _Doctor, _tell me something that only you and I know."

The Doctor bit his lip, and then he replied, "Amelia Pond, your husband once crashed the TARDIS because he was looking up through the glass floor, and I made you wear trousers for a week until you figured out how to shut off all of the hot water to only my shower. I told Rory that I had decided to let you wear skirts again, but it was really because I couldn't handle the cold shower."

"_Really?_" snorted River.

Amy's hurt expression vanished, and she stared incredulously for a moment before replying, "Right. Okay. I accept and acknowledge this situation to be _way _out of my depth. I can handle a space daughter, but a regenerated best friend is not my area. You two go ahead and canoodle or whatever. Um…say hello to future me too, okay?"

The Doctor nodded.

"Do I…do I take it well?" Amy asked shyly. "In the future? When you regenerate?"

The Doctor inhaled sharply. This proved to be enough of a spoiler for River, who gripped his hand even harder to show that she understood. The pain in his hand from his wife's vicelike grip aided him in lying, "You take it beautifully, Amy."

Amy smiled slightly. "I look forward to it," she said, in a voice that clearly stated she _didn't, _and then she turned around and walked away from the Doctor for the last time. He watched her go until she'd reentered the ballroom, and then he turned back to a worried River.

"She and Rory aren't with you anymore," River stated flatly. "Are you alone?"

He shook his head.

She swallowed and kissed him again, murmuring, "Please don't tell me any more," and he decided to live, for once, in the present, where River Song was cuddled in his arms…

Hang on, _cuddled in his arms? _

"Rule Two," said the Doctor in irritation, pulling his mouth away from an annoyed River. "The Doctor _doesn't hug_."

River bit her lip.

Then she leaned forward and bit his.

"Rule Three," she said, pulling away. "River doesn't care."

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><p>The Doctor found River flushed and disheveled in the hallway with a silly little smile on her face.<p>

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><p><strong>Reviews?<strong>

**-The Eclectic Bookworm**


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